Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice
by LadyFlamewing
Summary: Inspired by a prompt by my sister, for a story whose first line was "Kurama was forced to lick candy off Yusuke's chest." Heavily implied Kurama/Yusuke.


Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Yu Yu Hakusho, nor any related characters or merchandise, and make no profit from the writing or distribution of this work of fiction.

He was forced to lick candy off of Yusuke's chest. _Candy_. Off of Yusuke's _chest_. Kurama sighs.

"Yusuke, how do we get ourselves into these things?"

The half-demon shrugs, the motion somewhat stilted by the ki-sealing bonds holding his wrists above his head, pinned to the rough rock. "Dunno. I still say this is all your fault, though."

Kurama lifts his head and glares through matted bangs. "_My_ fault?" he repeats incredulously. "You're the one who decided to come rushing in, guns blazing, with absolutely no plan of action."

Yusuke gives another attempt at a shrug. " Plans are your thing. Besides, you needed to be rescued."

"I did _not_ need – !" His ki-bonds crackle, and his Kurama cries out in pain at the backlash from the unconscious flex of his energy. He takes a few calming breaths and marvels at how much shorter his temper has gotten in the course of his captivity. Except, he realizes with a start, it's not that he's angry with Yusuke – he's disgusted with himself for being captured at all.

The mission was simple – _should have been simple_, Kurama corrects himself – infiltrate and eliminate. In and out; piece of cake. But of course, his first mistake was trusting Koenma's information. _Never again_, he swears to himself. And when he gets out of here – it's not a question of _if_ so much as _when_ – a certain demi-god is going to get a _very_ explicit lesson on infiltration, courtesy of one Professor Youko Kurama.

Point the first: infiltration contacts should, under _no_ circumstances, be any more powerful than lower-level henchmen looking to rise in the ranks by introducing their masters to alluring fox-demons.

Point the second: infiltration contacts should _never_ be well-established recruiters for the sex-slave ring the mission is based around, with no qualms about double-crossing the Spirit World in favor of keeping their jobs.

Point the third: those agents sent on infiltration missions should probably be forced to develop some sort of immunity to the well-known unconsciousness-inducing drugs.

With some effort, Kurama turns his attention away from the enticing prospect of physically drilling these key points into Koenma's head and back to the conversation at hand.

"I did not need to be rescued," he manages, but he knows it's a complete and total lie. By the way Yusuke looks at him, he knows the half-demon is aware as well.

"Kurama, when I got here, you were strung up – buck naked, I might add – on a dais in the middle of a hall full of sex-starved demons. You were gagged, blindfolded, and ki-warded. Now, I don't know about you, but I think that pretty much screams 'rescue me'."

Kurama sighs in defeat and hangs his head. The chain around his neck – fastened, as the bonds at his wrists, to the rock behind him – rattles at the dejected movement, and he can't quite meet Yusuke's eyes as he murmurs, "I'm sorry I've gotten you into this, Yusuke."

"Whatever," Yusuke responds, immediately and lightly. "It's not a big deal. We'll think of something, I'm sure."

"Thank you." Kurama glances up at Yusuke just in time to catch the genuine smile on the half-demon's face before the door to their dank little holding cell is suddenly slammed open.

"You got a show to put on," growls the huge demon in the doorway, and Kurama has barely registered the disgusted noise from Yusuke before he is yanked forward. The world blurs disconcertingly as he is stripped, scrubbed, poked, prodded, and discreetly molested on his way to being shoved into an eerily familiar hall, hung with gaudy chandeliers and velvet curtains in what seems to be the popular fashion for every proud demon gone foolishly haughty.

Squinting against the harsh lights, he stumbles forward, and suddenly feels his feet leave the floor. He scrabbles desperately at the increased pressure at his throat as he is hauled atop the raised center stage by the chain fastened around his neck, and he is still gasping for breath when he is dropped unceremoniously onto Yusuke.

The half-demon grunts in discomfort – which, Kurama realizes, is about all he can do, as he is warded, gagged, and blindfolded in a disturbing mirror of the position in which he found Kurama. Except, the fox-demon realizes, for the glistening liquid drizzled all over Yusuke's bare chest.

_What __**is**__ it with the candy fixation?_ he wonders, even as his warden places a heavy hand on the back of his head and forces him closer to the half-demon's skin.

"Better make it good," he warns, and Kurama doesn't need to be told twice. Between the ominous knuckle-cracking and the massive bullwhip the demon has curled in one meaty fist, there's more than enough incentive for Kurama to lower his mouth with no more protest than a quiet sigh.

The first touch makes Yusuke arch his back with a hiss of surprise. His body draws taut, and Kurama backs off immediately with a murmured apology. When he leans back in again, Kurama is sure to mark his movement with hot breaths against the half-demon's skin, letting Yusuke know where he is at all times. The next touch wrings a soft sigh instead, and Kurama lets himself relax – and even enjoy – a bit.

He traces the sticky-sweet trails across Yusuke's skin with his lips and tongue, letting the taste roll fill his mouth and consume his senses. But more and more, he finds himself abandoning the slick sweetness and returning instead to areas he has already licked clean. It is in these places where he encounters a very different taste, one that is purely Yusuke: the delicate salt of his nervous perspiration, the heady musk of his building arousal, and a sharp tang that Kurama can easily imagine is the very spark of his reiki against the restraints laid into his skin.

Yusuke is just beginning to writhe deliciously underneath Kurama, giving muffled whines of pleasure that shoot straight into the fox-demon's groin, when an all-too-familiar voice cuts sharply through the hazy, sexually-charged atmosphere.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Kurama starts, biting down sharply on Yusuke' chest, but the half-demon doesn't appear to have noticed – he's gone deathly still. The silence is absolutely deafening until Kurama gently extracts his teeth from Yusuke's flesh and gives a deliberate cough.

"Hello, Kuwabara," he says, rather surprised at how calm he manages to sound. Almost as an afterthought, he adds, "I don't suppose you have a plan?"

"Uh…" comes the encouraging response, and Kurama sighs.

"I thought not," he murmurs, though he can barely hear himself as another familiar voice rings out.

"Idiot."

Kurama groans softly and drops his head to rest on Yusuke's chest as the argument begins, just audible over the slice of blades through flesh. "And you've brought Hiei," he mutters. "Wonderful. I'm never going to hear the end of this."

The fire-demon pauses beside him for a moment, and Kurama looks up to see him lazily flick the blood from his katana. "If you've got the time to complain, then you've got the time to untie the Detective. Get to it." And then he's gone again in a dark blur.

Kurama can't help but smile as he reaches for Yusuke's bonds – the physical restraints he can release, but the ki-wards will have to wait until they return to Genkai's – and offers his hand to tug the half-demon to his feet. He glances around the hall as their teammates handily dispatch whatever is left of the audience and shakes his head.

"How do we get ourselves into these things?"

Yusuke shrugs. "Dunno. I _still_ say this is all your fault, though."


End file.
